Living
by Rad
Summary: "While they did live happily ever after, the point is that they lived." Grand Dame, Ever After: A Cinderella Story. [Reid/OFC] [Takes place S10 but doesn't follow current episodes' plots.] (In which Rad starts something instead of finishes something... Bah.)
1. At First Glance

Living

_Author's notes: _Any statistics used in this fic are made up; I'm not Reid. :P Usual disclaimer applies… If I owned _Criminal Minds_ Maeve would not have died. If I somehow managed to come into possession of the TV series_ after_ that sad fact then Reid would have a girlfriend in season ten. This fic is not meant to follow season continuation; especially considering when I first wrote this fic I was in season seven. My husband is ahead of me and sometimes I watch where he's at.

Dear staff: PLEASE ALLOW shift+numbers TO BE SCENE BREAKS! *Unhappy Rad*

()

Chapter 1: At First Glance

_Late September _

"Reid, I want you to talk to this Reese Wellings when he arrives. If he saw or interacted with the unsub at all, we have to know about it. The other students we interviewed said he was shy with new people."

Almost eleven years they'd worked together; Hotch didn't even have to say 'You're the youngest we have; I'm hoping he'll feel more comfortable and open up to you quickly.' It was interesting the way they knew each other's strengths and weaknesses so well. They were so much like unsubs themselves; manipulating themselves, teammates, police, detectives, even witnesses.

He was fine until a women was ushered to the detective's office. The deputy closes the door and Reid blinks at her. "I'm sorry, how can I help you?"

She sits as far back into the chair as she can, arms not quite crossed, hands on top of her small purse.

"I'm Reese Wellings; I was told I could be of help in the – " her voice hitches, "murder investigation."

Her voice is small, quite; it matches her stature. Reid's sure she's hardly five feet. Mousy light brown hair, uninteresting eyes the shade of forgetful blue. Clearly she's uncomfortable around strangers but it's also clear that if she can help she will. Blue jeans, plain green t-shirt, hair in a ponytail, no jewelry.

Sensing a young version of himself in her, even if she has a few friends and he hadn't, Reid says gently, "I'm Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI. Are you friends with Alexis Gale?" She nods, eyes widening. He alleviates her fear before she asks or gets too worked up. "There's nothing wrong with Alexis; she simply informed us that you worked in the mailroom, usually sharing the same shift with Zack Kenny. Is that correct?"

Reese nods.

"What can you tell me about Zack?"

'_If someone thinks the conversation is about just the two of you, they're more likely to open up. Be one-on-one with shy people. There's no 'group,' there's no 'us.' It's just you and that person.'_

Blue eyes hide momentarily behind her eyelids as she scrambles through her memory. "Zack? Um… He keeps to himself mostly. We hardly ever talk. Once in a while we might say 'Hi' or 'How are you?' but we never actually talked." Reid noticed her hands relax a little. "I don't really think he's a loner or anything – I've seen him walking and chatting with the same guys around campus."

"Has he ever been late for his shift?"

"Not for any of the ones we worked together."

"There's a punch-in clock; how early do you arrive? What is your usual routine before you punch in?"

"There's a small room of lockers to store our stuff in. I usually arrive about ten or fifteen minutes before the shift starts. I dump my backpack and maybe a coat in my locker and use the restroom." Brown hair is jostled as her shoulders become less tense.

"Do you hang out by the punch-in clock for any length of time before you actually punch in?"

"Yeah. We're allowed to punch in up to five minutes before the shift starts."

"How early do you punch in? Do you punch in late at all? Does Zack ever hang out by the clock with you? Does he arrive before you, after you; do you see him in the locker room at all?"

Reese's eyes blink as he fires the questions rapidly at her. Her mouth works up and down, trying to catch up, trying to find answers. "I usually punch in at five minutes; I like to actually start on time and therefore get done on time and get as much done as I can during my shift. I do hang out by the punch-in clock for a few minutes… Zack does… sometimes? But not all the time. I typically don't punch in late unless the weather prevents me from doing so. But I typically prepare for the weather. I think we arrive around the same time? Some days his backpack is already in the locker room, some days it isn't. I think he lives off campus and drives. I know he has a truck. He's dropped me off once or twice if it was raining or snowing really badly."

Reid sat up straighter. "You've interacted with him outside of the mailroom?"

"Mhm. Well, sort of. He'll ask if I 'want or need a ride,' I say 'yes,' he says 'ok,' we sit in silence until he drops me off, then we both say some variation of 'good night, see you later' and that's it."

"What about while you work with him in the mailroom? Do you have a rapport going at all? Or are you both pretty quiet?"

"We might have some small talk between the three of us – Amelia's usually running the front counter while we're in the back."

"Does he seem organized? Does he follow a routine while he works? Has he ever seemed agitated or angry or sad or affected by anything that's happened on campus?"

Again she blinks at him, digging through her memory for the answers. Reid knows that what she sees on a daily basis will not be remembered immediately. But it's a normal, routine thing so it shouldn't take too long for her to recall easily. "He likes to sort the incoming mail and I sort the campus mail. He uses whatever method he has to sort the mail. I guess he's pretty organized. There hasn't even been much happening on campus for either of us to react to."

"Could you explain that to me in more detail?"

"I – I… He sorts the mail that parents and companies send to the students on campus. They go in bins – each matches a wall in the mail box room. I sort the papers and mail that professors and administration want to send to students."

"Did you two discuss this division of labor? Was it assigned to you? Did Zack say specifically that he wanted that role?"

Uncertainty crosses her face and he can see her bite her inner cheek. "That was two years ago… I… I think we just kind of fell into the roles? I don't think we were assigned them…" She closed her eyes and breathed in. After a moment one eyebrow rose a little and she opened her eyes. "I remember Gary saying 'One of you will sort the incoming mail and the other will sort the campus mail. You choose. Chop to it!' and clapping his hands."

"So Zack has easy access to students' names, mailbox numbers, and any person off-campus that would send them any kind of letter or small-box mail."

"Yes."

"Do either of you have access to what rooms match student names and mailbox numbers?"

"No, absolutely not. The mailroom has no need for that information. None of us would ever need to bring mail to a student's room or talk to them where they live for any reason."

"Is there a place where one could inconspicuously watch as students opened their mailboxes?"

"Uh, yeah. There are three doors leading into the mailbox room. Not all mailboxes are visible, but at least half of them are. There is always students milling about near the doorways or across the hall from them."

Reid listed off the names of the four girls who had been found murdered and queried, "Can all four of these girls' mailboxes been seen from those three doors?"

She pondered a moment. "I… don't know. They sound vaguely familiar. I'm not friends with any of them. I'd have to see their names and their mailbox numbers together to even try to remember. Wh – why does that matter?"

He jots down the girls' names and pushes the paper towards her. Her eyes take in the names while he answers. "I'm wondering if the unsub is choosing his victims as he watches them get their mail. Or if someone off campus is tipping him off via the mail he's delivering. If I can rule out one or both of those things, it will narrow down our suspect pool."

"'Unsub'?"

"Unknown subject."

She shakes her head. "The mailboxes of these girls don't particularly jump out at me – but I would have to see them in print and with their mailbox numbers. I don't remember much of anything I see at work."

A nod of understanding. "I'll get the mailroom to send those over right away. Is it possible for you to stay at the station for a little while until we can get those numbers?"

"Sure."

"The sheriff will probably need his office; I'll get you settled in the break room."

Reese had hardly gotten her books spread around her to continue working on a paper when over a dozen cell phones and pagers went off. The cacophony of noise was quickly replaced by the owners answering their phones. Almost immediately the room emptied as the police, detectives, and other official people out of uniform ran for the exits. Her eyes follow the brown curly-haired man that had interviewed her earlier as he runs with a group of people towards a door. Seconds later she heard sirens leaving the area.

'_He's probably kidnapped another woman again. Poor thing… I really hope they catch him in time to save her. I really hope that it's not Zack. I worked with him for two years; _he drove me home._ He can't be a murderer.'_

Suddenly it was too small in the break room, too stuffy. The walls were closing in on her, the air was too thick. Reese burst from the chair, pushing the table a few inches from its original resting place. She needed air.

A few seconds of indulgence of his gorgeous face is all that Reese allows herself as a distraction while she unwinds.

She was on her third turn in front of the police station when a familiar dark blue pick-up truck filled her view.

'_Oh. Damn. It.'_

It stops as close to her as it can get; she isn't going to get away and the street is populated with people.

"Hey Reese."

Plastering her usual smile on her face, she looked up. "Hi Zack."

He was frowning and

**Gun.**

"Get in or I'll shoot up the street."

Her eyes dart back and forth; there are people eating outside a café, people leaving the post office, people walking down the sidewalk. People, people, people. _Zack is a murderer!_ Reese's palms sweat before she opens the truck door and she forces herself to not wipe them on her pants. _Zack is a murderer!_ "Ok." After she closes the door behind her and buckles her belt, she turned to him. The smile never leaves her face. "How are you doing?"

Zack angrily pushes the master lock button on his door and slams the gas pedal down. The gun smashes into the seat, still pointed directly at her. He turns the corner, driving too quickly. "Don't give me that bullcrap. Amelia said you were going to be late for your shift because you were talking to the _cops_. What'd you tell them?!"

He kept the gun pointed at her as he drove, now laid on the seat between them, glancing over at her every few minutes.

"N-nothing! Look man, I hardly know you! All they asked about was working in the mailroom! All I told them was that we usually punch in at the same time and you dropped me off at my dorm once or twice!"

They were nearing the edge of town now. It slammed Reese hard in her gut then. He'd just made things worse. Zack had kidnapped _her_ and now she was either a hostage or his next victim. Whatever his motives, he had just proven he was the murderer.

The murderer of blonde-haired, green-eyed women.

So she wasn't his usual type; he had taken her because the police had wanted to talk to her.

_But did that assure her safety? Just because she wasn't his type didn't mean he wouldn't hurt or kill her. The police had spoken to her. It never ended well in the movies for the random person who had spoken to the police._

He parked the truck in the driveway of a little cottage a mile off a dirt road that was several miles from the main road that led into town.

Reese doesn't react as he marches her up to the house, into the basement, and into a chair. She doesn't say anything as he ducttapes each of her legs to a chair leg, then a long strip around both of her wrists. "Scream and one goes over your mouth, hear me?"

A short, quiet whimper escapes her but she nods her head.

Zack tromps back upstairs.

Despite the probable crick in her neck later, Reese manages to doze on and off. She wakes irregularly as far as she can tell. She does manage to track the shadows across the floor. Her hands are flaky from the dried sweat and she manages to twist at her wrists and wipe them on her thighs. Eventually it's dark, her stomach is loud and empty, and she _really_ has to pee. She manages to nod off again. Tears make their way down her cheeks a few times.

She's woken by sirens nearing the house.

Does she scream?

Someone yells "FBI!", she hears doors break down and "clear" repeated.

"Hey, basement!"

That's her cue.

"Down here, down here! Help me!"

The door bangs open, a light flashes near the stairs, and at least two someones cautiously make their way down the stairs. The light shines on her, not in her face, and their reaction to her is immediate. A black man searches the room while a white, light-haired woman holsters her weapon and begins to untie her.

Her tears start slowly.

"Hey, hey, it's ok, it's ok, you're going to be ok. We've got you, you're ok. You're Reese Wellings, right? The mailroom girl? Reid interviewed you at the station right?" She can only nod her head. "It's ok; we'll take you home, you're safe now."

Reese collapses into the other woman's arms.

"Did he hurt you? Reese, this is important. Did he hurt you? Honey, could you just shake your head yes or no? I need to know if you need an ambulance. No? No, are you sure?"

"Yes… yes I'm sure. He never touched me."

A medic looks her over anyway, right after she uses the closest bathroom.

She's in and out of consciousness for the next hour or so. A blanket had been draped around her early on at the house and the dark-haired woman's name had slipped past her fog; Kate. But her eyes wouldn't focus; her mind wouldn't make sense of the shapes and colors moving around her. Sound entered her ears but the vibrations wouldn't get past her eardrums. She knew they were putting her in a car and she knew there were a lot of people around her.

"Hey Callahan, is she ok? Reese? Reese."

"She seems fine Reid; just in shock."

That voice sounded familiar. Somehow her brain connected it to the FBI agent that had interviewed her at the station. _Tall, gangly, a little awkward, brown curly hair, gorgeous._

They're driving; the woman, Kate, is poking her a little to make sure she's alright. Unconsciously she leans away from the prodding. Bright lights break past the defenses of her eyelids and they flicker open. A multitude of colors scream into her optic nerves. Blinking rabidly to dispel the dizziness in her head, the puzzle pieces of store and restaurant signs slowly fall into place: they're going back to the police station.

Somewhere along the drive they hit a bump hard and she leans over further. Her body leans over and her head leans even further. It comes to rest on something hard and angular. Reese doesn't care. She's tired and sore and hungry and her head hurts so hard…

A car door opens, "No no, you stay there. We'll be right back."

Something heavy and vaguely familiar is plopped on the car seat beside her.

"Reese? Reese honey, we're at your dorm. You need to wake up."

"Mmm…."

A gentle hand pushes her up while another, a bit more forceful, pulls at her.

Her eyes snap open and she jerks up, nearly banging her head on a blessedly padded vehicle front seat. Reese's eyes race around the brightly lit SUV. She's too hot, boiling in the blanket and she throws it off.

"Calm down, honey calm down."

Snapping her head to the side, she sees the black-haired woman that untied her from the house. Her hands are up and away from her body, palms open. "Reese? Reese, focus on me. Remember me? Kate? Do you remember me?"

The adrenaline leaves her body and she sags back into the seat. Reese takes several deep breaths, wiping at her mouth with her hand. "Yes. Yes I remember you. I'm – I'm ok." She grabs her backpack and slowly gets out of the car.

Kate cautiously grabs her arm for stabilization. "I'm going to walk with you up to your room, ok? Do you think you'll be fine after that?"

"Y-yeah. Ff-fine enough."

"Ok then."

Her mind is clearer now, better translating what her eyes are seeing and her ears are hearing. Kate holds her close as they approach the building. A flash of her credentials and the night watch opens the door and calls her RA to meet them. Apparently they'd contacted her roommate before their arrival; Sasha quickly promising to keep an eye on her. Kate tells her to expect nightmares tonight and to see a psychologist as soon as possible. The older woman makes sure that her RA and roommate both understand this as well.

Something rocks her as Kate is leaving. "Wait!" The agent turns around. "Did you get him? What about the woman he took before me?"

A slow, small smile graces her pretty face. "Yeah, we got him. The other woman he took was a distraction to get to you. She's fine."

A sigh of relief. "Good. Thank you, Kate. Thank you."

"Of course. Goodnight ladies."

()

He's always relieved when they're able to rescue the victims. He's even more relieved when he'd had direct contact with them. His relief is at its peak when they remove a victim before too much terror can be inflicted on them.

Reid had pushed his mild attraction to Reese out of his head the second it had arrived. His radar always pinged when he found a woman he thought was pretty. It was rare; most women were always far out of his league and deep into Morgan's. But Reese… She reminded him so much of himself at that time in his life. Even if she was older and more socially adjusted. She was still shy, quiet, and socially removed. Yet she was completely comfortable in the place she had chosen. She was the sort of woman whom most wouldn't give a second thought to.

Obviously the case came first. He was always good at filing his attraction away and giving it a thought or two either on the plane ride back or when he was home. The attraction was always gone after he had indulged himself for those few minutes. Besides, it came so rarely he hardly ever had to deal with it.

Everyone was quiet on the way home from Zack's grandparents' house. Nobody really wanted to discuss anything in front of Reese, even if she probably couldn't hear them or wouldn't remember it. She'd gone through enough; there was no need to add to it.

Sleep had almost claimed him too when they went over a particularly large bump and it was robbed of him. He leaned back to try snatching it back when something connected against his shoulder. Looking down his vision was filled with the sleeping face of Reese leaning against him, head on his shoulder.

His eyes widened, his mouth fell open; Reid leaned his head back and accepted this tiny gift of luck.

Out of the corner of his last bit of consciousness he thought he saw Hotch's eyes squint into a smile.

()

Reid closed the last folder and flopped it into the file box. He put the lid on, grabbed it, and hauled it to the front with the rest of the boxes. Leaning against the desk, he let the conversation of his teammates wash over him. He wasn't paying any attention, simply listening to their after-case chatter.

"Are they still here?"

Her voice pierces through his daze and his eyebrows raise in surprise. His teammates hadn't heard; he turns and sees Reese across the room. A police woman points to their general direction. Reese smiles and assumedly says 'thank you', then makes her way over.

He turns… to find his teammates and the boxes are gone. Hotch is the last one out, smiling encouragingly at him as he exits the door. "Wh –" Reid hurries to catch up to his teammates. The SUV is waiting for him just outside the door.

Hotch sees Reid rush out the door, too early and too quick, he turns in the driver seat. "Morgan."

The younger man turns also, sees Reid, understands, and exits the vehicle.

Morgan is baring his way to the SUV, arms crossed. "Hey man, get back in there." His head tilt indicates the police station.

Confused, Reid stops. "What? Why would I do that?"

"Because that woman came back to see _you_. She came back here to talk to _you._ Hotch saw it, I saw it. Find your courage and get back in there." Softly he adds, "Maeve wouldn't want you to pass up this chance, would she? Spencer, do you want to muddle through your life or do you want to start _living_ it? How often is a woman going to come _to you?_ With everything you've done in your life, don't you think you deserve something? Don't you think you _deserve_ at least a chance?"

'"_No kiddo, there's no winning, there's just living. Moving forward. If you keep doing that… you'll be alright."'_

Rossi had said that to Seaver after a case.

_Robert Kennedy had once said that "Tragedy is a tool for the living to gain wisdom, not a guide by which to live." _

Without reply Reid swiftly turns on his heel towards the door.

He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to argue with Morgan, he doesn't want to talk to Reese. He doesn't want to be alone for the rest of his life. He doesn't want to be vulnerable. He doesn't want to muddle through getting to know someone _else._

Arguing with himself won't get him anywhere either and deep down, truly he does want to find someone. Someday. Why not now? Why not her?

No reason why _not_ other than his cowardice.

Reid reenters the station. His eyes sweep the room, looking for her. She'd sat by the chairs near the main entrance. He wonders why she decided to wait and as he nears her he sees that she has that look of embarrassment on her face, like when someone realizes they did something really foolish. She probably felt the need to sit and process what she'd done. There are little dark patches under her eyes; probably from lack of sleep due to nightmares. He stops a few feet from her and clears his throat. "Hi Reese."

Her head shoots up and her eyes are large, deer-in-the-headlights large. "Uh, hi." She's chewing the inside of her cheek again.

"Hi."

They both wait there awkwardly for a moment and Reid can practically hear Morgan's voice in his head prodding him forward. _'Ball's in your court man.'_ "Can – can I help you?"

"Um, maybe? Not really? I – I don't know." Her bottom lip curls over her teeth. "Is it – is it against the rules if I… If I ask for your… phone number?"

His eyebrows nearly reach his hairline. "My – my phone number?" he repeats stupidly.

_Maeve's voice echoes through his head, made staticy because they're both using a phone booth._

Reid turns away from her, hands to his face.

"If it is, that's – that's fine. I'll just – go then."

_An escape route!_

Her sadness is evident in her voice and the way she stands up to leave.

Hotch _had_ smiled at him… Morgan had told him to come back inside…

Was he ever going to get a chance like this again…?

_She_ had come to him._ She_ had made the first move. _She_ had chosen to come back to the police station after everything was all over and seek out him. _She _ had taken that first step, hardest of all.

'"_Scars remind us where we've been, they don't have to dictate where we're going."'_

Rossi's words float through his mind again.

"Um, wait. Reese?"

He squints at her, pushing away his grief and digging for that desire to have a _someone_ that he'd buried way down deep when Maeve had gone into the ground, he licks his lips. "How about – how about addresses?" It was a cheating way out – if it didn't work out then he wouldn't have much of her voice in his head when she lef- when – _if _it didn't work out.

Her words would be in his head; he'd bury that too under everything else in there.

Reese smiles at him. "Yeah, sure."

Reid smiles back. He digs paper and pen out from his bag. As he writes he says, "And make sure you see a psychologist too. Statistics are heavily in your favor of dealing with this trauma if you see one and soon. It'll help with the nightmares. It'll help you – move on."

Internally he laughs at the situation, but Reese is already replying, "Yeah, I'm going to find one today and try to schedule an appointment this week."

She writes her address on the other half of the paper, rips it in two, and hands him her half. "Bye."

"Bye."


	2. Introduction

A _**huge**_ thank-you to the following:

FFnet: crazaboutms (for adding me on Author Alert); XXArmageddonXX, fishtrek, and rosek28 (for adding this fic to their Story Alert); ahowell1993 for Favoriting; and the 60+ people who viewed the first chapter.

A03: mollymcintyre for the kudos!

Tumblr: for liking/following!  
>hawkeyethecop<br>zozodavo  
>lisa42s<br>lanas-cruel-world  
>flufflymuffins<br>radi0actives  
>wolfish-philanthropy<br>leah-khaleesi  
>blackcat816<br>animeismylif93  
>lokikatt<br>mermaidodair

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Chapter 2: Introduction

_Late November_

"Hey kid, what has been eating you these last few days?"

"I'm fine Morgan, I don't know what you're talking about."

The older man leans back in his seat, tilts his head to the side, and chuckles. "Dude, you suck at lying. Really. You've been a little off the last couple of days. A little angry, I think. What's eating at you?"

"Fine Morgan, you really want to know? Reese and I traded addresses. You and Hotch shoved me forward and I stuck my neck out and made myself vulnerable and I have nothing to show for it! It's been two months! Is my luck just that bad that the post office lost her letter or something completely random happened to it? I've sent her three letters and nothing! Nothing! I'm just doomed. I'm resigned to my fate and its fine. Just leave me alone, alright? I'm fine." He sagged against his desk chair, beaten.

"Ah… Well, they were just starting midterms while we were there and she is working through a trauma. Maybe she just hasn't had the time yet? I really hope that's the case. I'm sorry this one seems to have bombed man. But trust me. Don't let it get you down. You put yourself out there. You took a huge step. Hopefully next time it will be easier for you and it will work out better."

"Morgan, there is no 'next time.' That's fine. I'm fine with that. I'll be _fine.'_

His friend came over and leaned against his desk. "No man. If you want someone, eventually, you have to keep working at it. Yeah we have as stressful job that keeps us away from home. Yeah you're a genius with terrible social skills. But you found _two_ someones before. Almost four, if you want to count it that way. If you really want it, it _will_ happen."

Reid turns away from his friend, digs around in a drawer for nothing or whatever fells best to pull out, and announces, "I really don't want to talk about this anymore."

The black man claps his hands together once. "Fine. When you're ready, you know where to find me."

Two days later, Reid receives a letter. The handwriting of his address is unrecognizable to him. He never gets any mail other than bills and spam. He knows all of his teammates' handwriting easily. (Why would they send him anything through the mail anyway?) His eyes sweep to the corner to see if there's a return address –

He drops the letter like it was burning hot.

Reese Wellings.

The postmark is from a few days ago.

Immediately scrabbling down for it, he has it half torn open when he stops himself. Does he really want to do this to himself? Open his heart up again? What if she just politely wants to tell him she's not interested?

Morgan's voice in his head tells him if she wasn't interested, she wouldn't have taken the time to write him.

His fingers register that the envelope is more than one page thick. Reid's fingers know the feel of printer paper and the feel of non-printer paper. This is probably notebook paper; definitely not printer paper.

A hand-written letter longer than one page would take _time._ Reese had put actual effort in sending him a letter. It was an _investment_ on her part. This really was his chance and he'd be an _idiot_ if he let it pass by.

(If it really was hand-written. Writing anything longer than a sticky Post-It was unheard of these days. Everything was done by computer now. Reid intensely disliked most of advanced technology these days.)

"Ok fine Morgan, you win. Now get out of my head."

Right there in the threshold of his apartment he finishes opening the envelope, lets it fall to the floor, and reads the letter.

_Spencer Reid,_

_I'm sorry it took me this long to write to you. I'll be completely honest and tell you that I frankly don't know what to write about. At first I was a little busy and a bit scared; but those are more like excuses than actual reasons. Then when I actually sat down and began to write a letter, my note-taking kicked in and the words were all in shorthand. I'm a little ashamed to say that I had written almost three paragraphs before I realized this. I was all 'Ugh no' and threw that one away. _

_I was also a little sick for a few days. Nothing big; something I go through all the time. The psychologist said this trauma affected it._

_The psychologist that I have been seeing says I am doing well; making good progress. The first few weeks were rough – I'd wake up with nightmares several times at night. It was terrible and I looked terrible. Poor Sasha – my roommate – slept with our suitmates for those two weeks. After that I woke up less and less. I still jump a little whenever I see a dark blue car and I shudder a little when I'm at work, but it is slowly going away._

_But being extremely tired from all of that is a valid reason for why this letter is late…_

_I am happy to say that I passed my midterms with flying colors in most of my classes! :) Math is not my strong suite but this is the last class that I have to take in math. Science is also low on the totem pole but I got a "C"! Ha._

_And now I'm struggling for what to say…_

_I'm going to apologize – ha, but not – that you're just going to get a bunch of rambling, stream-of-consciousness thoughts from me and I'll probably jump all over the place._

_I guess if you don't want to read it you'll just never respond! :P_

_I did receive your three letters. I did not know that so much information could be stored and remembered with such clarity in one human brain. Fascinating things you've got saved in your head. _

_Your job sounds very interesting. Not that I want to know all of the gory details – and maybe you can't even tell me some of it? And that's fine, too. But the idea that you can catch someone based on their behavior and upbringing is very intriguing. _

_I'm going to take this opportunity to say 'Thank you' and ask that you pass this on to your team. I'm sure people say this to you sometimes, but truly. __Thank you__ for sacrificing your time, energy, mind, and soul to such a… an exhausting job. None of you receive the credit you should. _

_I suppose I should tell you about myself. I'm an only child and my parents are still together. They live in Michigan as well, just a few cities away. Haha, if I get really homesick I get in my car and drive the two hour trip to see them. Though I told them I wanted to be independent while I'm at school. _

_(Which is a bit of a joke as they're paying for most of it!)_

_The first few weeks of college were interesting for me in this regard. Hehe I told Mom I'd be home to see them every week and do laundry. Not! I came home the first two weekends and then just kind of decided I was going to be just fine on my own. Plus… that's a lot of gas money… And while I know that Mom and Dad miss me, they are happy that I'm growing up. (And moving toward moving out eventually! :))_

_Not that I'm not working; as you know. I work in the school's mailroom sorting campus mail. I got this job during the second semester of my freshman year. I'm currently in my junior year. I also help out in the gym with keeping score for the volleyball games and assisting with tournaments. I'm studying English as my major and Religion as my minor. _

_The only reason I'm even going to college is because my parents really wanted me to and it supposedly looks good on a resume when I get a 'real' job after graduation. Crossing my fingers on that one. Plus Sasha and I have been best friends since kindergarten and she got in and begged me to be her roommate. _

_I'm studying English and Religion because there really isn't anything else for me to study and they are both interests of mine. As previously stated science and math are not my strong suite. English and Religion are basically the only things left when everything has been boiled down to the basics, ha._

_When I get to pretend that I have free time, I also waitress in a retirement home. I've managed to memorize the names of about ninety-five percent of the people that eat in the main dining room. The residents love that I know their names; they try to get me to sit at their tables with them and tell me their life's stories and all about their families. While I'm trying to work! The management there wants me to work more hours but honestly I enjoy the mailroom and the volleyball stuff too much to leave. Well, during school anyway. During summer break I'm totally up for having more work hours!_

_So I guess here's some random facts about me. My favorite color is purple, I'm five foot and one inch – just barely – and I hate Greek food. My family doesn't really eat out at varying restaurants but I have had Indian and I enjoyed it that one time. I don't have a lot of friends because I think most people my age are just too loud and they can't seem to make up their minds about things. "Let's try this, let's try that; what does this do?" Sasha has made friends and they've basically let me hang out with them; sort of adopted me but not really._

_Sometimes I let them drag me to a club; but not usually. Too loud and too many people. Too many strangers. The lights sometimes go all wonky too. I'm not a big fan._

_Well, I think that's enough for one day. I'm beat and going to bed. I look forward to your next letter._

_I hope you have a great day and solve another case. :) _

_ Reese Wellings_

He had it memorized after the first read through, of course. Still, he read it twice more, picking out nuances here and there. Reid interpreted her 'sickness' as her menstrual cycle starting early and agreed with her psychologist that the trauma being the reason. She gripped her pencil too tightly; the lead being thick and the impressions in the paper deep. The second and third papers had indentations from the previous paper's writing. He could tell that she'd had to sharpen it towards the end. Even without seeing her baseline handwriting, he could tell she had written it while tired. The letters sloped just a touch too much to the right. Her letters were large but not huge, a little larger than average, meaning that her paragraphs appeared long on the pages.

_She'd written to him_.

Reid left his things at the door, went to his table and wrote her back; he held on to the letter for three days before mailing it – he didn't want to seem too eager.

_Mid December_

Two letters each later and Reid was worried if he should get Reese something for Christmas and _what_. His head wasn't one hundred percent in the case and Hotch and then Morgan asked him why. He half-lied to Hotch and said 'nothing' in that way that informed Hotch he didn't want to talk about it. Hotch had laid down the law and said Reid had to handle it and soon.

It was late and he was at the end of his rope. He was alone in the police's conference room and took the moment for himself. He put his head on the table and crossed his arms around his head. A few minutes later he heard Morgan enter, concern in his step. "Reid? He man, you ok?"

Half mumbling, his response hardly escaped his cocoon. "What do I get her for Christmas?"

"What? I can't hear you Reid. Speak up."

Raising his head a little from his nest and his eyes a little bleary, he repeated himself.

"A Christmas gift? For Reese? Don't worry about it man. You've traded a handful of letters. That means you're acquaintances bordering on friends. You're not lovers. Don't sweat it. It _is_ good of you to think of it but you don't need to get her anything. Maybe a card, but not a gift. If _she_ hasn't hinted at fussing over what to get _you_ or dropped any sort of hints as to what you could get _her_, you've got nothing to worry about. Like I said, you're hardly lovers."

Reid squinted at the black man. "Really?"

"Really really, lover boy." Morgan winked at him.

Well that was a weight off his shoulders.

The week of Christmas he received a hand-made card. There was no extravagance to it; just a piece of regular printer paper with colored marker accents. Reese had free-handed silver swirls, red holly berries, gold bells, and the generic shape of leaves in green. Purple must be her favorite color as she'd signed her name in it. That was the only color that didn't fit in. Reid noted that she hadn't included her last name this time. (The art wasn't extravagant by any means; clearly she had no talent for drawing but did find enough pleasure in it for a card.)

Hastily he added 'Merry Christmas' to the end of his outgoing letter and added a swirly line under it.

The last week of the year her letter said _'I hope you have a Happy New Year!'_ and Reid jolted upon the realization that they'd been writing each other for roughly three months. (He hadn't even realized the year was that close to ending…) _'Are you ready to make some resolutions that you'll never think about again like the rest of us? Ha! I stopped making them a long time ago. :P'_

His resolution was to put effort into this budding relationship and not run away from it.

_Late January_

"Hey Reid; tell me you're not going to fuss about Valentine's Day like you did last year with Christmas."

"_Last year"_ tasted funny in his mouth, rang funny in his ears, looked funny in the random chance he wrote it. It was hardly a month ago and yet here they all are saying 'last year.' Morgan knew this tickled Reid and he was saying it to lighten the mood of the topic he'd just brought up.

"Nope, not planning on it."

A short pause. "That's good man. You mind telling me how you came to this conclusion, playa?"

"Last year you said we weren't lovers. That was a correct assessment. It still holds true today. Why worry about it?" The connection was so easy to make!

Morgan has his thinking face on. "Will one of you ever initiate that next step?"

Reid chewed on that question for a moment. "Maybe someday but not any day real soon."

The older man's face widens with a smile. "Good for you Reid; I'm proud of you man." Morgan smacks him on the shoulder with his handful of folders and he smiles back at his friend.


	3. Need

Thank you MiaR for following this story!

()()()

Chapter 3: Need

It's late March and Reid is just a little antsy for a letter. Reese had warned him it might be a little while until she could write because midterms were once again upon her. For the first time he reread her previous letters, even taking them with him on the current case to keep him calm. It made his heart flutter when she stopped putting his last name at the beginning of her letters and also dropping her last name when she signed them. So far hardly a week went by that he didn't receive a letter from her and he sent letters just as often. They pretty much wrote about the days since they'd last written; he about the case and whatever random fact or statistic popped into his mind and she about her school life and her friends' social lives.

This case was a doozy. The unsubs targeted partners of all sorts. Straight, bisexual, homosexual; both white, both black, one white and one black; same race and mixed. Tender beginning relationships and solid fifty-year marriages. _For ten years_. The case rocked everyone and no one was surprised when Hotch, throwing "Take a few days off" over his shoulder, was the first one to leave; JJ hot on his heels. Rossi and Callahan had volunteered to pick up the paperwork. For the last few years Morgan had already been tackling some of Hotch's after-case load. It had been assumed that Reid would as well.

Usually he would; usually he wouldn't mind at all; usually he'd be happy to assist.

This time he has an aching need to see Reese. He had to confirm that she was fine. He had to confirm that this terrible horror hasn't touched her. That she's still smiling, still laughing. He's never even heard her laugh.

The image of her in police station, dark smudges under her eyes, floats unwanted in his mind. Morgan had reported that she'd been ducttaped to a chair. She'd looked so ragged when she'd come out of the house. Callahan had asked her if Zack had hurt her and Reese had said that he hadn't. But Reid could still see him with a gun pointed at her, with a knife to her throat. (Zack had never used a knife in Reese's abduction, Reid _knew_ that. But the negative image, the negative thought, was still there. Still screaming for his attention.)

Blinking away the images (they were in the past; try to think about their conversation before the BAU left the station), he pushes the need aside. They're not even in a relationship; he's hardly talked to her for more than five minutes. Sure he spent a little over an hour with her in the SUV last year. Yeah they've traded over a dozen letters each since then. That didn't mean they had a _thing_. (But they almost do. If he'd let it mature…)

The ache doesn't go away; he flies through the after-case paperwork faster than ever. Using his work computer, he looks up the next flight to Michigan. He can feel Rossi's eyes on him as he shoves his things in his bag, grabs his coat, and nearly runs for the exit. If he can shave three minutes off his usual walk to the subway he'll make it to the airport in time.

Snatches of sleep are caught on the plane; but at least he gets some. It's not the BAU jet; therefore he can't stretch out like he usually does. He tucks his gun into his bag to avoid stares and the need for him to explain its presence.

Walking to her campus from the bus stop, he arrives shortly after ten-thirty am. As Reid approaches the closest building, it hits him. While he had seen a map when they were here last year, he has no idea what her schedule is. She could be anywhere on the small city-like campus. Luckily there's no one in the parking lot; he looks like an idiot standing there tiredly putting his hair behind his ear and smoothing it down. (This is completely futile with this wind and only shows his nervousness.) With a shrug he determines his next course of action: ask the desk clerk in the mailroom in the student center if he or she knows Reese and knows where she is.

At least with his winter coat on he blends right in with the campus scene and won't receive any funny looks; his gun hiding in his bag.

Luck is on his side; the young woman behind the counter is Amelia. That name is familiar; Reese had said she usually worked with Amelia. There's no waiting line either. "Hi. Do you know Reese? I'm looking for her."

"Might I ask who is asking for her?"

Reid swallows and offers a hesitant smile. "I'm Spencer Reid."

Amelia's eyes light up. "Spencer? FBI Spencer?"

"Yes…"

She extends her hand over the counter with enthusiasm. "It is _very_ nice to meet you!" Reid takes his hand out of his pocket but gives a little wave. (He's standing a mite bit too far away for a handshake anyway and with his slouch even worse than normal hopefully he looks too exhausted to shake her hand. Hopefully he doesn't appear rude but right now he hardly bothers to allow it to concern him.) "Reese has mentioned you a few times," Amelia begins, hinting that she wants all the juicy details. (Or at least, Reid thinks that's what she wants. He's not entirely sure and right now it doesn't matter.) She retracts her hand and doesn't appear to be offended. "Nice to finally meet you." Amelia is giving him this look and he's not sure what her face is telling him. "Reese gets out of class at 11:30. Where's your phone? I'll give you her number."

"Um, that's alright. I'd rather get her number myself. I'll just wait for her here. She will come here, right?" _Stupid, stupid!_

"Wow, old school hm. I can see why she likes you. Yeah. Her and Maxie hang out here for about twenty minutes until a few of their other friends get out of class, then they all go to lunch."

He's mentally correcting 'her' to 'she' and at the same time thinking that the casual way that Amelia simply mentions 'she likes you' is odd to him. Aren't those things supposed to be a big secret between female friends? Reid doesn't dwell on it; he's too tired to process it. That's a large part of the reason he's here, too; _he_ kinda likes her. And now he's made it obvious to a complete stranger. He thanks Amelia and finds a chair tucked into a corner, away from the noise, where he can see both entrances. There aren't a lot of people in the student center yet, a fact that he is very grateful for.

He had never been the type to use the student center at CalTech. There had never been any friends for him to hang out with in such a place. Everyone else had been four or five years his senior and he was a genius to boot. Nobody wanted to hang out with him. He didn't want to hang out with them either. At least that time through he had learned to keep his head down and stay out of any bullies' targets. Of course, most of the students he'd attended the university with were a bit more mature than that.

Too tired to actively try to stay awake, he dozes off; being accustomed to sleeping in differing noise levels often comes in handy.

Even though he'd never heard her laugh, he knows it's her the second Reid hears it. His eyes snap open and immediately lock onto her position. The black woman next to her must be Maxie. Heaving himself up, he makes his way over to her. The student center has become too loud for him to vocally get her attention. She is across the room from him and the mailroom is near the entrance that Reese and Maxie had used; Amelia gets their attention first. He can tell the exact moment that Amelia says his name: Reese stands straighter. Amelia points in his direction and Reese turns.

Reid immediately deletes the image of her with sleepless patches under her eyes in the police station from his memory banks and replaces it with the sight before him. She's again wearing blue jeans and a Grand Valley State sweatshirt but this time it's a purple sweatshirt. He knows from experience that 98% of any paraphernalia of a school is in the school's colors. This time she'd added earrings to the ensemble: long dangling green things made of tiny beads. Reid usually doesn't care about women's jewelry other than to think it might be too gaudy but in this case he realizes that they're part of Reese's personality showing through. Despite the fact they don't really match her outfit (though they might match whatever is under the sweatshirt but it's too cold for her to go without the heavier article of clothing and she must be comfortable with it indoors), she likes them and therefore wore them.

Reese is smiling shyly at him; how could he not enjoy that?

He stops a few yards from the mailroom window where Maxie is talking to Amelia; both of them are watching him and Reese. Reese stops two feet from him, one foot closer than last year in the police station. Reid can hardly believe his in this position.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"What are you doing here?"

Swallowing, he removes a few bricks from around his heart. "We had a really bad case and I – I needed to see you."

Tilting her head to the side Reese responds, "I'm sorry you had a bad case but I'm really glad to see you."

They both stand there awkwardly for a moment. "Would you like something to eat? You look… Frankly Spencer, you look terrible. I think that's a role-reversal from last time."

"Yeah, food would be nice." One side of his mouth tilts up at her mild attempt at a joke.

Reese leads him to the nearby cafeteria and brushes him off when he says he'll pay her back for his meal. "I've got a lot of non-cafeteria money in my account, don't worry about it. I almost never use it at the coffee shop anyway." After getting their food they find seats in a back corner and sit across from each other. After several minutes of quiet eating, Reese inquires, "Why are you so tired?"

"We left Missouri early in the morning and I left the BAU around four am. I got some sleep on the flight and the bus over here but not much and both were too short. And like I said, it was a really bad case."

There's a pause while they both eat a few bites and she looks contemplative. "Do you want to talk about it?"

It's Reid's turn to be contemplative. "Not – not really. Two unsubs had been killing a lot of people for over ten years. We caught them."

"Ok. You got them, that's good. Anything else you want to tell me about? I got your last letter and like I mentioned, I've been really busy with midterms. And the mail flow through the mailroom has been heavier."

"No, nothing has really happened since I sent you that letter. Just one other case and this one."

Reese told him how she was doing so far with midterms and hesitantly spoke of how one of her friends had started dating another student. Her parents were well; her mother had gone away for a week to a conference out of state. They finished their meal in comfortable silence. After exiting the student center, she asked, "How long are you staying?"

"I didn't book a flight back. I'll probably go home as soon as I can. I need to get some actual sleep in my own bed."

"Ok. I don't have class until 2:30. Do you – Here, you can look at flights on my laptop." She sets her backpack down and begins to pull out the machinery.

Reid chews on his lip in response to her unfinished question. "I can stay for a little while. Is there a quiet place where we can talk?"

She looks back at him, hesitant smile on her face. "Yeah. There are benches along the sidewalk around the pond. Are you up for another walk?" Reese replaces her laptop in her backpack.

"Yes. I walk frequently during the day."

"Alright."

A silent four minute uncomfortable walk later (a foot and a half between them) and Reese chooses a bench across the pond. There's a road a little ways behind them and people on the other side of the water by the dormitory buildings but they're basically alone. Reese sits comfortably on the bench, hands in her pink gloves which clash garishly with her purple coat and again clash with her earrings. Her sweatshirt sleeves over her gloves looks tacky too. But he can feel that this is so _her_. She places her hands in her lap, palms down. Conversely Reid is stiff, anxious, hands in his pockets (mostly to keep them warm. Mostly. They're shaking a little. From lack of sleep). She'd chosen one end, almost in the corner, her backpack in the corner and he sat at the other end, _in _the corner, as far in as he could go. Several minutes go by and she watches the early-returned geese and one lone swan glide across the water. His eyes fix on the end of the fence ten feet away from their position and her profile is in his line of sight. It takes him a while to find the words for what he wants to say and the courage to actually say them aloud.

"What did you want to talk about?"

Her words are soft, probing gently. He can feel her eyes on him. _'Great. Either I took too long and she's annoyed or she thinks I can't spit it out.'_ "Uh." He raises his head and doesn't quite meet her gaze. "I – This writing letters thing. I've really enjoyed them. It. Getting to know you. Over the last six months. I – I wanted to know how you… I wanted to hear your side of the story. On how you felt. About the letter writing." _'Coward.'_

His eyes flick to her face for a moment, gauging her reaction, before they again lock on the fence post. She looks a little puzzled. "It was a little weird – not _weird_ - different, not my normal - writing letters. And getting them. The only thing I ever get in the mail are my car and credit card bills. And junk mail. I've never written a letter in my entire life. But it's fun, looking forward to getting it in the mail. It's funny;" she smiles, "I usually sort it when it comes in. Your letters never make it into the sorting bins; I put them in my sweatshirt pocket for later." She rolls her lower lip overtop her teeth, unsure if she wants to reveal something. "I get this – this thrill – every time I see my name on that envelope. My eyes immediately look for your name in the sender corner, even though I recognize your handwriting by now. I – I really like seeing your name in that corner."

'_It makes me feel special'_ is the underlying message he thinks he receives from her.

Reid can _feel_ her smiling shyly at him. Her hands have moved up in her lap and are palms together in anticipation. _'Say something!'_ "Would you consider being my girlfriend? And by that I mean we would dating. Date. We would date each other. Exclusively. Not just 'hanging out' or 'seeing each other' or whatever term you kids have come up with these days," he blurts. _'Wow, way to be subtle and romantic, genius.'_

No hesitation, "I don't have to consider it."

In the short pause before she speaks again he thinks, _'Oh no no nononono.'_

"Yes."

He doesn't think his eyes have ever moved so fast in his life. "Really?"

"Really really."

Her smile is more set, more sure. Reid smiles back, really smiles; he hasn't smiled in a week. "That's – that's great. Thank you." He wishes he had more energy to be more excited. He'll be all happy and giddy in a few days when Morgan puts the puzzle together and then he'll relive it when the others figure it out too and demand all the details.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They sit there smiling stupidly at each other for a few minutes.

"What now?" Reid ventures, finding his nerve now that he'd asked and she'd answered in the affirmative. He can't make a mistake or do something stupid in the immediate moment, not when she'd just agreed to be his girlfriend.

_She'd agreed to be his girlfriend._

"I can't drive you to the airport; I wouldn't get back in enough time for class. Not that class is more important than you are," she adds quickly. Reid can see her conflict in her now tense face. "I'm not a class-skipper," she explains hastily. "And it's some sort of advanced history class that I need to be in to take my own notes. The professor rambles on and on and if I don't take my _own_ notes – "

"It's ok, I understand," he cuts her off before she can ramble on and feel like she made a fool of herself. He knows _exactly_ how that feels. "I can walk to the bus stop again."

"Do you want a coffee or something for the walk and bus ride? The coffee shop in the student center has a lot of different choices."

"Sure."

The walk back is quiet too, though comfortable this time. Reid forces himself to take the initiative and walks exactly four inches closer to Reese. He's not sure if she's subconsciously mimicking him or if she consciously chooses to walk closer, but their shoulders are barely six inches apart this time. There's a short line at the coffee shop counter and their wait is over soon. Reese tells him he can have whatever he wants, repeating that she has plenty of money on her card. He notes that she orders her own drink without espresso and "ten degrees cooler than what you're supposed to steam it to." He asks her about it after they've left the counter while he looks up flights back to Virginia.

"I like to drink my hot chocolate right away, not wait for it to get cool enough to not burn my tongue. White chocolate is far too good to have to wait for it to get to a drinkable temperature." She shoots him an 'I'm right' smile around her cup as she immediately takes a swig while he's waiting for his to cool.

He wonders if she's avoiding the lack of espresso part or if he didn't make it clear that was part of the question. Reid pushes it off for another time, hoping it won't be a problem in the future. They arrive at the edge of campus and stand there side by side for a moment, unsure of how to say goodbye.

"Bye Spencer. I'm sorry you had a bad case but I'm really glad to see you."

"Yeah. I'm happy to see you too."

Reid had taken four steps when she says his name. "Yeah?"

"… Can I have – Do you want my…?"

Earlier Reid had noticed that she swung her arms while walking. Even as he mentally corrected 'can' to 'could' he observed her body language now. Her hot chocolate cup almost hung forgotten in one hand, fingers barely keeping it up while her other hand was holding the strap of her backpack, those fingers brushing against the material. She was chewing the inside of her cheek again. Apparently it was her turn to not look him in the eye; her eyes were focused on something a few feet to his right.

Understanding her hesitation in forming the question was immediate. _"Can I have your phone number?"_ made her sound needy and clingy; was she jumping in too fast? On the other hand, _"Do you want my phone number?"_ put the responsibility in his hands – if he said 'No, (he'd rather keep writing for a while longer),' how much would it hurt her? What did that say about him?

It suddenly hit Reid as the pieces of the puzzle fell squarely into place. Reese had never had a boyfriend. She'd probably never knowingly had anyone flirt with her, either, given that _'Sometimes I let them drag me to a club; but not usually. Too loud and too many people. Too many strangers. The lights sometimes go all wonky too. I'm not a big fan.'_

(Well wasn't that another role-reversal?)

His mouth went dry as he mentally heard the phone booth phone ringing. Was he ready for this? Now? If not now, when? When would he be ready for this step? Would he _ever_?

"If it's against the rules or something, that's fine."

_A way out!_

Swallowing, Reid finally reacted. "It's not. It's not against the rules." He pulled out his phone and felt Reese relax as she stepped forward and found hers. "What's your number?" She rattled it off and he immediately dialed it. Surprise sprung upon her face as her phone rang.

"You didn't enter me as a contact?"

No hurt in her voice, only interested confusion. "_That_'s against the rules. I-11.5.8, page 241. 'Do not enter public, private, or professional phone numbers into your cell phone's contact list. Should your phone be left unattended, an ill-meaning person or persons will have access to this information.'"

"So you don't even have your teammates listed?"

"Nope."

"Huh. Well I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you've got them memorized."

"I've got yours memorized too."

"Really? That fast?"

"I have an eidetic memory. Once I've read something I remember it."

"Interesting."

As she works at putting his information into her phone, he connects the dots that maybe she can't multi-task on some things. Or preferred focusing on one thing at a time. His phone rings; she must be checking to be sure she'd saved it correctly. The shy smile is back on her face as she puts her phone away. "Well, bye then," she says with sure finality. "I'll talk to you later."

"I look forward to it." He smiles back.

Reese waves and he's again off.

Morgan doesn't say much when he figures it out, just chuckles, smiles, and congratulates him. A few days later the entire team is overjoyed when the pieces finally fall into place. The usual teasing ensues and Reid basks in the familial feeling. Two days later his heart beats faster when he sees her incoming call on his phone. He's pretty sure he'd never answered his phone faster.

"Hey Reese."

"_Hi Spencer. How are you?"_

"I'm doing pretty well; how are you?"

"_I'm doing good as well. I passed all of my midterms!"_

"That's good to hear."

"_Did you have a new case after you came to visit me?"_

"Nope, nothing new yet. Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"_Usually yes; we were let out a little early today and I decided it was a great time to give you a call."_

"Well I'm certainly glad you did."

"_How are your teammates doing?"_

"They're doing well too; nothing big going on in their lives either."

Reid hears her muffled voice as she tells a friend she'll be right over.

"_We're off to lunch now; I'll talk to you in a few days ok?"_

"Yes, that sounds great. Bye!"

"_Bye! I hope the rest of your day goes well!"_

She disconnects the line before he can wish the same sentiment back to her.

()()()

_Author's note:_ So I do realize that there's at least on instance in which Garcia's name is seen on Morgan's phone in one episode. Up until that episode as far as I can recall no one's name is ever seen on a ringing phone. But it makes sense that Contacts shouldn't be recorded for safety's sake, right? :P Just go with it.


	4. Seasons Change

Big, HUGE thanks to MiaR for _Living_'s first review! I'm glad you think I've got Reid in character; that's a thing that I don't know if I do very well with. :P Love your kind words!

*Sputters* 381 views? THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!

()()()

Chapter 4: Seasons Change

He's a little shocked to receive a letter three days later. Apparently she had some attachment to the letter writing. Or it had become routine. Maybe she felt some sort of obligation to continue writing letters? Maybe she found it enjoyable? Some form of stress release? Reid decided not to dwell on it. He enjoyed writing the letters and if for whatever reason Reese decided to continue, he'd gladly accept it.

March's winter snow is soon washed away by April's rain and then April's rain brings May's flowers. They talk on the phone two or three times a week and each usually receives the other's letter every other week. Reid can't believe that he's had a girlfriend for almost two months. Reese usually initiates the phone call but sometimes he takes a turn. There have been several times where she has had to leave a voicemail due to cases but her tone of voice never indicates that this angers her.

Reid goes up to visit her for one day during her spring break. He could hear her wide smile through the phone when he said he needed her to come pick her up. _"No, no! It's not an inconvenience at all! You're lucky; today is my day off and I was going to laze around the dorm anyway. Sure I'd love to come get you!"_ (He'd had Garcia hack into the retirement home's computers to find out her schedule. But nobody but he and she had to know that.) Reese received special permission from her RA to have him in her dorm room and they spent the day being completely lazy on her couch and watching _Star Wars_. Both were sad when he had to leave.

Reese's final exams roll around and then are done; she passes every one but not all with flying colors. She tells him that she, her roommate Sasha, Maxie, and Amelia are going to be renting a house this summer and through graduation after the next school year. She excitedly rambled on and on about that. Reid could feel the desire for freedom and the delight in the newfound maturity in this move toward adulthood.

Morgan's eyebrows rise flirtatiously when Reid mentions "all those girls in one house" but Reid doesn't get it and therefore doesn't respond.

He feels a little bad that he can't help her move because of a case but she tells him that's 'totally ok!' and that her friends know people. (Reid is a little relieved he won't have to be seen carrying the light boxes.) (But then he's a little jealous – who do her friends know that will be helping them move anyway?) Peace of mind comes immediately when she briefly mentions her parents will be there too.

_Mid June_

It has to be squeezed in but Hotch gives him a smile along with the approval for a day off. "Enjoy it," he says pointedly. Reid answers in the affirmative; he certainly plans to.

Again he chose to surprise her by having Garcia find her schedule. This time he takes a cab to her new place of lodging. The absolute joy and delight on Reese's face as she opens the door to him will be his definition of happiness until something new (something even better) happens to supersede it. "Spencer!" She just stands there, the door open, too shocked to move.

(_He's the source of that joy, the cause of that delight. Him, Spencer Reid!_ That thought sends a thrill through him.)

"Why are you still in your pajama pants? It's almost noon! I've always thought of you as a hard worker; giving all that you can give and doing your best. That doesn't really scream 'lazy.' – No offense –

And they're tie dye." The bright colors are sharp, harsh, stabbing at his eyes and he focuses on her purple sweatshirt instead.

"I know; they're great! I'm actually really lucky to find tie dye that actually has a lot of purple in it. Yeah… I thought about changing but I decided I'm going to be lazy today. You're right; I'm not the sort of person to be lazy. But every once in a while it's good to take a day off and do absolutely _nothing_. My plan was to curl up in the basement with a blanket, a cup of hot chocolate, and – " She stops and Reid understands she's hesitant to share this secret about herself.

" – have a _Doctor Who_ marathon."

"_Really?_ That's perfect! Which episode are you on?" He looks around for the door to the basement, excited for a marathon. _A _Doctor Who_ marathon with his girlfriend! _"Let's get started!"

"You like _Doctor Who_?"

"Yes!"

"Well then! We'll be geeks together! It'll be so much fun!"

They spend almost as much time talking about different aspects of the show as they do watching it. Several times one or the other pauses or rewinds the DVD because something was said, thus interrupting the scene. Reid had never felt so much excitement from only two people in such a small space. One episode but two hours later and Reese's stomach rumbles. Reid is a bit shocked to discover just how close they'd ended up on the couch – there's hardly two inches between them. His breath catches at the closeness – Reese is too busy blathering about getting something to eat and would he like something? to notice.

She's up and moving toward the stairs before he's forming a response. "Wh-whatever you've got is fine." He's not a picky eater. Half the time he forgets to eat anyway. No, right now he's too focused on the fact that two seconds ago they'd been so close to each other on the couch. So energized, so _connected!_

_He'd never gotten to hold Maeve, feel her next to him…_

No, no. He shouldn't think negatively. Let the feeling of loss be and be there, but don't hold on to it. Breathe. Reese was here, Reese was now.

So caught up in the sensation is he that Reid hardly says anything, hardly touches his food, hardly reacts to the next episode.

"Spencer?"

Timid.

He looks over at her, worried. "Yeah? What's up?"

"Um, what's up with you? You've gone all quiet and contemplative over there…"

Fumbling for a response he takes his time to actually say anything. "Nothing. Nothing's up."

"Where did your enthusiasm go?"

'_It's still here; it didn't go anywhere! I just don't know how to react to these contradicting emotions! Did you feel it earlier? Did you realize how close we were? Do you feel what I'm feeling? How am I to act and react to that?'_

He squints at her, his face pinches, and he bites one corner of his lip.

Apparently he took too long to come up with a response. Reese half-shrugs and turns away. But he sees the pain on her face. He hadn't shared with her why he seemed to have become withdrawn. It's not deep pain, but it's still pain and it's still there and he's still the cause. For the next few minutes he watches her, his face only partially to the TV. Her movements are measured now, lacking her earlier energy as she resettles herself on the couch.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

She reacts a moment later, probably unsure that she'd heard him. "What?"

Reid swallows. "I'm sorry. I'm not very good at this sharing thing. My emotions are all jumbled up in my mind."

Reese pauses the DVD and turns to him.

Clearly he has her full attention and clearly he's supposed to explain himself. Reid squeezes his eyes shut. _'Just tell her. She'll understand. Comprehension will come with new information.'_ "I had a girlfriend. She died about a year and a half ago."

Even with his eyes closed he can feel Reese relax and the tension dissipate. Electricity spikes up his arm as she places her hand on his. Reid tenses at the new sensation, stopping himself from pulling away. "I'm sorry."

He licks his lips; his mouth is dry. "Thank you."

Hesitantly she squeezes his hand and slowly withdraws the physical contact. Reid isn't sure what he's sensing from her as she pulls away. Swallowing again he opens his eyes to better read her body language. There's pain in her eyes, pain for his loss. Reese is relaxed but leaning toward him like – like… Reid's not sure what he's reading in her. The hand she'd touched him with is on her shin, like she wants to – to _something_, as if she's not done with it? They stare at each other for a few minutes in silence.

Not sure how to proceed, Reese slowly nudges the Play button on the remote on the floor with her foot. Clearly she's giving him time to tell her to keep the TV paused if he wants to continue the discussion. Reid doesn't stop her. He'd found his limit for the day. Reese curls into the corner, mourning in her features. He tucks himself into the couch, hiding in on himself.

They pass the next few hours mostly quietly, discussing the show here and there; actually making it through three episodes this time. Stretching while still in his seated position, Reid notices that earlier when Reese had changed positions her sock-clad toes were now touching his lower thigh. Despite the fact that he's facing the TV he stares, fixated on the fact that they're touching. Actually, finally touching and not for comfort from grief. (He's grateful that there is no skin-to-skin contact; he's pretty sure he couldn't handle that right now.)

His eyes follow the line of her body to her face; she's not paying any attention to anything other than the TV. Is he supposed to point this out to her, bring her attention to this? Does this mean something to Reese like it means something to him?

Reid decides he can't find the words and after earlier maybe he shouldn't open his big mouth.

An episode and a half goes by when Reese stretches. Her toes dig into his thigh – not painfully but Reid hadn't been expecting the movement at all. His knees twitch away at the same moment that Reese hesitantly retracts her feet. He keeps his focus on the TV but watches her from the corner of his eye. She has this slightly embarrassed look on her face, like she didn't realize she'd been that close and wasn't sure what she was supposed to do next. Her eyes are on him, head tilted to the side.

He decides to act like nothing had happened.

Eventually her stomach rumbles again and she stutteringly asks if he wants anything, never looking him in the eye but fixating on a point on the wall above his head. Reid shrugs off giving any sort of choice, again saying that he'll take whatever she offers. Reese hurriedly gathers up their lunch dishes and races up the stairs.

Crap; is she running away from him now, finding any excuse to not be with him? Sagging against the couch Reid wonders where he went wrong. That couldn't be right though; if she really hadn't wanted to continue to spend time with him she wouldn't have stayed on the couch with him for another four and a half hours.

If she no longer wanted to spend time with him, she would have paid more attention to the location of her feet; she would have guarded herself better.

The rattling of dishes in the sink upstairs intrudes on his thoughts. He hadn't been anticipating hearing anything so he didn't catch what Sasha said, though he did discern a note of sisterly teasing. Reese's response catches his attention though. _"Good. Everything's good."_ Her voice is too cheerful; just a little higher than normal.

"_Girl you know you can't lie to your best friend! What's going on? _

Reid knows he shouldn't eavesdrop but his need to understand Reese outweighs sociable acceptance. He fumbles with the remote, turning the TV off so that it's buzzing doesn't interfere with his hearing. Craning his neck upwards, he filters out the noises of the basement.

" – _I'm just fine that I'm not his first. I don't really care about that. But another girl _died_ before we got to where we are now. How am I supposed to take to that? What am I supposed to do? Act like nothing happened? She _died!_ And he doesn't seem to want me to touch him. I grabbed his hand and he shied away from me."_

Interesting that she didn't mention her toes on his thigh. Reid turns around and spots the heating vent from which he can hear the women's voices. Standing he walks to the vent; now he can hear them better.

"_Well you one to talk. You don't like being touched neither."_

What?

"_Sasha I've explained that to you. I don't want to be touched by people I don't _know. _That's why I don't like to go clubbing with you girls. Too many people in my personal space."_

Unexpected tactile input from an unknown source.

"_Reese your personal bubble so large people get in your personal space all the time!"_

"_Yes but at the clubs and at some of those restaurants its normal for people – especially guys – to just come up to a girl and touch her on the shoulder or arm or something. I'm not ok with that. It just weirds me out and I have to wonder how they think they have the right to just touch other people without knowing them."_

"_Well maybe he's not used to being touched either."_

There's a short pause in which Reid assumes that Reese is now enlightened: she hadn't thought about that. Reese says his thoughts verbatim while shuffling around the kitchen. Sasha continues, _"He's different than most guys out there; you said so yoself. You said that's why you liked him, because he wasn't normal. Hell girl, he wanted to write letters! How old-fashioned is that?"_ There's no malice in the other woman's voice, just silliness. Reese laughs and he hears her using the microwave. He can see her in his mind: hands on the counter, head down in thought.

"_And as for the girlfriend dying; well, hugs and teddy bears to him but clearly he's moved on. Or is trying to move on. Whatever. That's life girlfriend. You don't have to do anything other than tell him you're sorry and feel bad that now she's gone. I know you. You mean it. You don't think that it's something outta your way to him and that's what matters. Don't let it bother you that he's not with her and now he's with you. Life put him in your face and you went for it and he chose to respond in the romantic."_

'"Chose to respond in the romantic"?' That was an odd way to phrase it.

"_No," there's a smile in her voice, "you made me go for it."_

"_Didn't tell you to do nothing you didn't want to do!"_

"_That's true."_

"_And you right, he really is cute."_

Reid is pretty sure he'd rather be called 'handsome' or 'dashing' instead of cute, but he'll take the compliment anyway. (_Is he? She thinks he is cute?_) He does find the tidbit about Sasha encouraging Reese to seek him out interesting. Apparently she had needed a nudge just like he had. The microwave dings, Reese thanks Sasha, dishes clatter out of cupboards, and Reid dives for the couch and the Power button for the TV before Reese reenters the basement and discovers his transgression.

The smell of Indian food wafted into his nostrils as she closes the upstairs door and he takes a moment to breathe it in and appreciate her choice of food for dinner, even if it is microwaved. The apprehensive discussion earlier must have been forgiven because the hurry in her downstairs trod is for the food and when she rounds the corner she smiles at him. The tenseness has lifted from her body and when she sits down she doesn't tuck herself in the corner but sits close to him.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"About earlier…"

She waves her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it Spencer. I understand what it's like to have a lot of thoughts running around and bumping into each other in your head and you're tripping over them. If you're not ready to talk about it or if you don't have your thoughts sorted out that's fine. Just… whenever you are ready to talk, I'm here ok?"

"Yeah, ok."

Reese is chewing on her lip again. "One thing, just tell me one thing Spencer."

"What?"

Contorting herself by doubling over her stomach and craning her neck up, she forces her face into his line of sight. "Why do you seem to have trouble looking me in the eye?" Her tone of voice indicates confusion with just a small dash of hurt. There's no blame, no indication that she thinks he's acting holier-than-thou. It's just a question. Reese is simply asking, simply wanting to be informed, simply trying to know more about him to understand him. Reid tightly shuts his eyes, then opens them and focuses on her chin.

A question he can't answer right now.

_Reese won't want to be with him after he informs her of his situation; he can't force out those words about himself. _

What_ had he been _thinking_ when he'd allowed Morgan to convince him to go back into that police station last year?_

There's a short answer he could give to that question but it's not enough information. The long answer is best for clear understanding. But after the altercation earlier, he just can't. He'll tell her eventually because he has to and she has to know, but not now. Just not now.

"Ok." Reese shrugs one shoulder and straightens herself back up.

He hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud. There's a split second of panic as he wonders just how much he'd said but judging by her lack of dejectedness only the important part had slipped out of him. That's good; the rest of the evening can be salvaged; their excitement and connection is within his grasp.

There is complete trust and acceptance in her voice and Reid cannot believe that she's putting so much faith in him. "Thank you," he whispers as he deliberately reaches out one hand and squeezes her knee, forcing himself to not retract too quickly. "You're welcome." There's a long pause of comfortable silence until Reese says, "We should eat before the food gets cold. I don't want to have to run upstairs and reheat it." He can hear the twinkle in her eye that she's joking, trying to lighten the mood. He smiles at her. "I _am_ hungry."

Three episodes in four hours later and the excitement of someone else enjoying your passion is once again high. Reid wants it to last forever (they'd just spent eight hours, thirty-three minutes and twelve seconds together!) but they both have to go back to real life tomorrow. He has to go back to real life _today_, needing to leave soon to catch a decent timed flight back to Virginia. He folds up the blanket for lack of anything else to do as Reese takes her time gathering the dinner dishes.

"I don't want you to go."

"I don't want to go either."

She sighs, "Back to real life."

Reid chuckles, "I was just thinking that."

Slowly they make their way upstairs, Reese deposits the dishes next to the sink while Reid stands in the doorway waiting, then they move to the front door. Standing there a little awkwardly for a moment, they simply enjoy each other's company before the spell breaks and Reid really does leave.

"Well, bye." He forces reality to become true.

Reese moves toward him and reaches her arm out –

and opens the door behind him. "Do you – Do you need a ride to the airport?"

"No; there's a bus stop up around the corner. I've already memorized the times and routes." He'd never given any thought to Reese taking him to the airport.

"Bye. I miss you already."

"I miss you too. I'll try to come back up in a few weeks."

"Promise?" she asks enthusiastically.

"I promise."

Her smiling face is the last thing he sees unhindered as she closes the door behind him. He can feel her eyes on him as he makes his way down the driveway. He turns and waves as he rounds the corner of the trees in the front yard and Reese's face lights up as she waves back.

Three days later Reid knocks on Garcia's door. "Come on in if you dare! Oh Reid! What can I do for you sweetcheeks?"

He shakes his head at the nickname. "I…I need your help."

"With what?"

Taking the empty chair, he replies, "I need your help in figuring something out. A few days ago I went up to see Reese – "

Clapping her hands together Garcia exclaims, "Oh that _is_ where you went! Yays for you! We all deduced that's where you went but Hotch wouldn't tell us because you hadn't told him. At least not directly. JJ thinks that his body language said you told him indirectly. But I digress, what can I help you with lover boy?"

"I need help in understanding her body language. Things were going really well: we had spent two hours watching _Doctor Who_," Garcia's face illuminates and she waves her fists in her Garcia squeeing way and Reid smiles, "and everything was going great until she went upstairs to get something for lunch. I had the thought that I'd never gotten to spend time with Maeve and of course I got a little out of touch and when she came back she asked me what was wrong. I told her that I'd had a girlfriend previously and that she'd died – I didn't want to explain everything right that instant – and of course she felt bad about it. She put her hand on mine and squeezed and said sorry and what I don't get is what she did – or didn't do? – afterwards. We weren't sitting that closely so she had to lean over to put her hand on mine. When she leaned back she didn't – lean all the way back. Like she was hovering, wanting to do something."

Placing both hands over her heart, Garcia cooed, "Oh honey! We women think we can take on the pain and suffering of those closest to us that we hold most dear. She wanted to hold you, to hug you, to embrace and envelope you and to share in your mournful state. We believe that this touch relieves those we love of their burden by taking some of it upon ourselves. We also want to experience whatever emotion those we love are feeling or if we're experiencing an emotion to an extreme we have a powerful need to extend that emotion to those around us."

"Wow I didn't know you could wax so poetically."

Sniggering, she supplies, "Banter with Morgan helps."

"I'll bet it does. Thanks Garcia."

"You're welcome babe. Any time; you know that right?"

"Yes, yes of course."

"Good boy." She pats him on the shoulder as he rises to leave.

A few weeks pass and the letters and phone calls continue. Reese never mentions the topics that they hadn't discussed that night. She's completely giving him whatever space he needs; she never brings up the topic or even hints at it. Each day that passes Reid is thankful of the utter faith she's placing in him. He schedules a day to go see her and over the next week ponders over what he has to say. And _when_. After arguing with himself for a while and getting his thoughts down on paper where he can see them, he comes to a decision. He's going to thoroughly appreciate every last second he spends with Reese, telling her at the end of the day about his _situation_.

It's not right, he knows, but he's jealously going to hold on to their relationship for as long as he can.


	5. Life Story

Thank you lek99 for the follow and favorite and gossamermouse101 for the follow!

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Chapter 5: Life Story

_Early July_

Reese is bouncing on the heels of her feet as she opens the door for him. "Hi Spencer!" Her face is alight with joy and her bound hair swishes back and forth in her fervor. He hates himself for having to crush her later when he breaks the news, but for now they're going to enjoy themselves. _He's_ going to enjoy himself.

"Hi!"

"I really missed you Spencer." She's still standing there, door held open in her hand, jittery with happiness. She's holding herself back; her body is leaning forward just a little and she's on her toes – ready to fly at him? Reid connects that she wants to hug him in her eagerness. He takes the door from her hand and she watches stupidly as he closes it, at the same time giving her a really big smile. "I missed you too."

"_Doctor Who_?"

"As if you need to ask."

She emits a very Garcia-like, high-pitched, excited noise that's just a little sharp to his ears and moves to the basement.

Seven hours, twenty-nine minutes and fifty-one seconds and a grand total of five episodes pass in delightful discussion and viewing. Reese again produces meals from the microwave: Ramen for lunch and Indian for dinner. Reid dreads the nearing end of the evening. He'd built up his courage on the plane ride over: he was going to inform Reese of his _situation_ tonight. It would be the end.

Oh but what a glorious journey!

Reese lets out a contented sigh as the episode ends. "Well, that was fun." She shuts off the TV and turns to him, smile on her face. He's folding the blanket again, decidedly focused on his task and not looking at her. "Spencer?"

Placing the now-folded blanket on the back of the couch, he asks her to sit. Reese retakes her usual spot on the couch, bewilderment deepening when he sits on the chair near the TV. He'd rehearsed on the plane and had his speech memorized. Swallowing and looking at a point on the wall over her shoulder, he begins. "I'm self-diagnosed with Asperger's Disorder. This disorder hadn't been properly established when I was young and my mother – my mother had some trouble so I was never diagnosed. I'm self-diagnosed because I already know about it, understand it, and have adapted to functioning with it in my daily life so why waste time getting a proper diagnosis." Reese's confusion only deepens again as he starts using words she's unaccustomed to hearing. "What Asperger's Disorder means is that I have a form of autism. I have difficulty with social interaction, nonverbal communication, and I have a restricted and repetitive pattern of behavior and interests. I also have a relative preservation of linguistic and cognitive development and I'm clumsy and I don't empathize with others. I also experience tactile input dissimilarly."

"Spencer… I feel like you're reading out of a textbook instead of talking to me; in English please?"

"People with Asperger's Disorder have difficulty with social interaction. They do not communicate with others well, nor do they understand easily when others try to communicate with them. They struggle with nonverbal behaviors such as eye contact, facial expression, posture, and gestures. Usually failure to react correctly leads to a feeling of disregard for the other's feelings. There is a struggle with the give-and-take dynamic of a conversation. Usually the sufferer will engage in a long-winded, one-sided speech."

"When you ramble on about a topic or fact or useless trivia."

"Yes."

"The other part, about not reading people's body language? Um, join the club; half of people today are stuck thinking about themselves instead of actually hearing what the other part of the conversation is saying. Isn't it your _job_ to read people?"

"My job is in a rather controlled environment, when you think about it. People that are bad people doing bad things. People connected to the case usually act and react in a certain way. In a 'normal,' every day social gathering setting? I drown.

Displaying repetitive and restricted behavior and interests means abnormal levels of intensity or focus. They memorize data but there's not always an actual understanding or passion for the topic. The restrictive behavior is sticking to routines and the – the hand flapping."

"I like the hand flapping; it means you're excited. And everyone has a hobby. So what if you're 'narrow' and obsessed? So what if you're full of information and not connected? Useless trivia is _fun_."

"A relative preservation of linguistic and cognitive development means sufferers are defensive in how they learn things – "

"People want to learn things the same way. Some are visual, some are hands-on, some can read a manual and some just look at the pictures."

"I'm clumsy – "

"Pish posh. You're certified to carry a _gun. _Which me nor my housemates have ever complained about. Moving on."

"I – I experience tactile input dissimilarly."

There is a long pause before Reid chooses on how to explain this one. "When you touch something, the nerves in your skin sends a message that your brain interprets. 'This is hard or soft; hot or cold; thin or thick.' When you smell something, your olfactory system sends a message that your brain interprets. 'This is good or this is bad; sweet or spicy, faint or intense.' When you hear something, your auditory perception sends a message that your brain interprets. 'This is too loud or too quiet. Too harsh or pleasant. Recognition or alien.'

I – Sometimes I see words instead of color. It's called synesthesia. Any time we go to a house to do an interview and they have _California coreopsis_ – California tickseed - in the front garden, I see the flowers with the words _'bright yellow!'_ all over them. The words are – the words are – the words are wavy and dancing… Sort of popping out of the center of the flower. One of our unsubs literally _saw_ the words come out of peoples' mouths and sometimes in specific colors although his emotions and how he perceived the person affected the color."

There! Now that she fully understood Reese wouldn't want to see him again, deal with his weirdness anymore. She would break up with him and he'd get over her and get back to his life.

His life filled with the team and cases and… loneliness and no one to come home to; no one to call, no one to talk to.

Reid had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

He put his head in his hands and reminded himself to breath. It would all be over soon anyway.

"Ooookaaaay… Thanks for informing me?"

Snapping his head up, eyes wide, he asks, "You're not going to break up with me?"

"Why would I ever do that?"

"Because I'm _weird._ I slouch and my tie is always crooked. I'm too tall and thin and I'm clumsy and I don't have a normal haircut. I ramble all the time. I dress funny."

"But you're not bad-weird. You're just… You-weird. There's nothing wrong with that. Ok so you dress a little different. So you talk with your hands – lots of people do. You catch bad guys, I think you can empathize enough to care about the world. So what if you learn things differently or remember _everything_ or you're a little socially awkward. Um, hello," Reese waves her hand, "I'm a little socially awkward too.

"I – I like your hair; a lot. Ahum, as long as you're wearing something, wear whatever you're comfortable in. I think almost everyone in America in this day and age has posture problems. I like it when you ramble. Who cares if your tie is a little crooked? I like your hair. Um, I think I said that." Reese itches the side of her nose with one finger.

"That stuff doesn't bother me."

"It doesn't?"

"No."

"You're not going to break up with me?"

"No! Don't you think that after two days' worth of _Doctor Who_ and after almost seven months of… whatever you want to call it – predating I guess, I'm just going to dump you? Hell no!"

'_Wow, Reese actually swore.'_ His eyebrows knit together. "Are you sure? Are you sure you want to put up with me for… however long?"

"'Put up with you'? Spencer! I don't tolerate you for some strange reason! I don't endure being near you for who knows why! I _like_ you! I like the way you remember _everything_ and have all this trivia in your head and the way you treat me and the way you're comfortable in your own skin! You're kind and selfless and you let me be me! I don't 'put up with you'! I never have! Do you think I'd do that for _seven months_?!"

"Um… no?"

"Damn straight!"

"You do?"

Reese rolls her eyes in exasperation. "Yes! Why do you think I agreed to be your girlfriend? Why do you think I spent all that time writing letters? Talking on the phone? Watching _Doctor Who_? With you! All with you!"

"It's just – you've never said it before."

She blinks and opens her mouth and says, "Well, you've never said it either."

Immediately Reese claps her hands over her mouth. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to retaliate! That wasn't nice of me."

Clearing his throat, Reid responds, "No, actually, you're right." He pauses. "I do like you Reese."

Relief washes over her as she visibly relaxes and while he's still a little tense from the heated discussion his burden has been lightened as well. He stands and moves to the couch, sitting just a little closer than normal. "So I have a really stupid question."

"Yeah?"

"Could we just – pretend that tonight didn't happen?"

Breathing out, Reese says, "No. It happened. You can't just pretend that it didn't. We have to deal with it. It's a part of us. But if we let it, it will help us grown."

"That's… that's very profound."

"It is?"

"Yeah."

"Ok."

Several minutes pass in silence, Reid is lost in his thoughts and he guesses Reese is as well: her eyes are unfocused and her mouth is open just a little.

An electric shock jolts up his arm as she lays her hand atop his. Reid's arm twitches but he turns his hand over and grasps her hand. She squeezes back and withdraws the contact.

A glance at his watch and he has to go if he's going to catch his flight. Reid clears his throat, "I really have to leave."

"Yeah…"

They are silent as he leaves, the quiet only broken by their adieus.

_Author's note_: Most of the Asperger's part is pretty much copy and paste from Wikipedia with my interpretations of the scientific wording and I tried to make it as awkward as possible.


End file.
